


More Than Brothers, Less Than Wives

by Jewel_Goose



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood
Genre: M/M, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jewel_Goose/pseuds/Jewel_Goose
Summary: Cliff's good at resisting temptation, he thinks. At least, when it doesn't involve Rick. He could never say no to Rick. Wouldn't ever want to.He thinks Rick knows it, too.





	More Than Brothers, Less Than Wives

The television drones tirelessly in the background, an upbeat ad for Mug crackling from the speakers. Not that Cliff's paying it much attention, that is, not with a lap full of half-naked movie star to attend to.

Rick's leaning back, hips grinding against Cliffs' as he keeps his eyes squeezed shut, mouth open and panting, lips slick with spit and raw from being worried between his teeth. He's got one hand gripped against the sofa's leather arm and the other fisted in Cliff's hair. Cliff's own hands are planted firmly on Rick's waist, following it back-and-forth as he watches Rick's cock bounce against his lower stomach. When he looks lower, still, he can see his own dick ease in and out of Rick's warmth, red and swollen and wet with lube.

Rick's so good. So damn good he makes Cliff wonder if he'll ever be able to go back to another woman. He sure as Hell won't take another man, that's for sure. Not when they'll all have to live up to Rick.

Beautiful Rick, who'd been grinning wide as a cat when they'd watched his performance on F.B.I. not even twenty minutes ago. Handsome, wonderful Rick, who'd side-eyed Cliff as that grin had transformed into a hungry smirk. Perfection himself Rick fucking Dalton, who'd crawled his pert little ass over to Cliff and planted himself unmovingly atop of Cliff's crotch, arms braced against the back of the sofa as he'd stared down at him, eyes hooded and irresistible and absolutely gorgeous.

Cliff's good at resisting temptation, he thinks. At least, when it doesn't involve Rick. He could never say no to Rick. Wouldn't ever want to.

He thinks Rick knows it, too.

Cliff grunts low in his throat when Rick presses down, fingers pulling Cliff's head closer to his neck as the other hand slides around the armrest. He hooks his fingers under it, uses it to pull himself down, sinks into Cliff with a long, satisfied groan, his cock twitching as it leaks, dribbling lazily down his length.

Cliff can't say no, not when Rick's so good for him.

He winds an arm around Rick's back, holding him in place as he thrusts up into him. Rick gasps, keens, yanks Cliff's hair like he's about to rip a bald spot into his skull. Cliff takes the hint and reaches up with his free hand, pulling the collar of Rick's turtleneck down to tease the base of Rick's throat with his stubble. Rick yelps, the sound muffled against the back of his teeth, and Cliff feels several hot drips against his naval. He grins, pride blooming in his chest as he opens his mouth and slides his teeth against Rick's skin.

Rick gasps again, the sound clipped by another needy, guttural moan as he tightens around Cliff, throaty grunts accompanying the splatters of cum that fall across Cliff's abdomen. He pulses around Cliff, the sensation nearly enough to make him want to pin Rick against his waist and release then and there.

Almost.

Before Rick has the chance to compose himself, Cliff loops both arms around him and stands. He wonders for a split-second if he could fuck him against the wall like this, but shakes the thought from his head as he turns, dropping Rick's body against the cushions. He looms above him, hands sliding along his bare legs to grope the toned flesh of his thighs as Rick pants, chest rising and falling erratically in an attempt to get a proper lungful of air.

Cliff doesn't wait for him. He spreads his legs, takes a knee against the sofa, and sets his pace.

Rick shouts, arching his back as his hips lift to get away, but his hands fist into the thin fabric of his t-shirt, tugging weakly as slick drips from their bodies onto the cushions below. Cliff bows his head, eyes falling shut as he moves steadily, nails digging into Rick's skin as the muscles deep in his stomach tighten with each thrust, his breath coming shorter with each slap of skin against skin.

Then, when Rick clamps his legs around Cliff's waist, holding him flush to his body, Cliff gives in and buries himself to the hilt. He bares his teeth, releasing inside of Rick with a strangled groan, trying in vain to press himself deeper inside with each pulse. They stay like that for a moment, both breathing heavily as they come down from their respective highs, Cliff even shifting to brace an arm against the back of the couch.

When he finally blinks his eyes open, he sees Rick gazing up at him blearily, blinking slow and lazy like a man on the verge of sleep. He can't be far off, judging by the way his chest rises slower and slower with each breath. Cliff huffs a small laugh, easing back to pull out and lower Rick's hips down to the sofa. He peels off the spent condom, turning to toss it in an empty pizza box before focusing back on Rick.

Rick, whose eyes are now closed, mouth hanging open with quiet snores. Rick, who Cliff disentangles from to grab and dampen a towel to wash the two of them off, taking care not to disturb Rick as best as he can. Rick, who Cliff gently gathers in his arms and carries to his bedroom, tucking him in all the way up to the shoulders. Rick, whose forehead Cliff can’t help but push the hair from, only to lean down and press a soft, feather-light kiss to.

Cliff doesn’t stay long after that. He turns off all the lights, flicks off the television, and folds up the pizza boxes to cram them into the garbage. He finds the pants the two of them had discarded earlier, pulls his own on, and folds up Rick’s to leave them on the coffee table. He pops the leftover beers into the fridge and gathers the empty cans, then makes his way out to his car, making sure to close the front door quietly behind him. He tosses the cans into the back to recycle later, then starts up the engine and backs out of the driveway to take off.

When Cliff comes to a deserted intersection, he takes the opportunity to light up a cigarette, roll down the window, and lean back in his seat. He sits there for a bit, tired eyes staring out at the barren roads, and Cliff’s sleep-deprived brain starts wandering aimlessly.

He wonders what would happen if he’d stayed the night. He wonders what Rick would say if he’d woken up with Cliff lying next to him. He wonders if Rick would smile, if he’d reach out for Cliff and stroke his face. He wonders if he’d straddle him again, only to lean down and press their lips together. He wonders if he’d cup his jaw with both hands, tilt his head and open his lips, hum into his mouth and stroke his hand down his neck to his chest. He wonders if Rick would kiss him like he means it, if Rick would pull back and look down at him with sleepy, adoring eyes.

He wonders if Rick would say he loves--

A sudden, blaring horn jolts Cliff back to the present, his eyes snapping open in time to see a silver Cobra blaze around him. Cliff sits in shock for another moment, willing his racing heart to slow down as he gathers his thoughts. He exhales slowly before laying on the gas, the tires squealing as Cliff speeds off into the night. He flicks his smoldering cigarette into the ashtray in his console, then returns both hands to the wheel and forces his focus to stay on the road.

There’s no point in fantasizing. More than brothers, less than wives, after all.


End file.
